


Two Fingers

by allmilhouse



Category: Night World (1932)
Genre: Anal Fingering, F/M, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-14 16:00:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18479560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allmilhouse/pseuds/allmilhouse
Summary: Michael drinks to distract himself from his problems. Ruth thinks she’s found a better way





	Two Fingers

“So, how are you feeling?” Ruth Taylor asked, as she knelt next to the lounging chair. Michael Rand lay there, drunk and beaten and overall in a pretty sorry state. 

“Well,” he said slowly, like he was still evaluating. “I’m drunk, I don’t know where I am, and I’m still alive. I don’t know which is worse.”

“I can help some of that. You’re at Happy’s Club, in the back office. You got a little tight earlier, and they brought you back here to cool off.”

Michael nodded. “Checks our so far. Can I have another drink?”

Ruth hesitated. “I don’t think you should. It’s not good for you.”

“But how else can I feel better?” he asked in a small, pitiful voice. 

“I can think of something,” she said, leaning over him and planting a soft kiss on his cheek. He blushed sweetly, and Ruth took that as encouragement. She climbed on top of him, and bent down to lay a trail of kisses along his cheekbone, stopping short before reaching his jawline. 

“I’m guessing your chin’s still tender?” She asked. “From when Happy socked you?”

“Wh- oh, yeah,” he frowned. 

“This’ll have to do,” she smiled, kissing him on the lips instead. He was slow to respond, whether from his drunkenness or concussion, Ruth didn’t know, but he caught up to her eventually, snaking an arm around her shoulders and holding her close. He kissed in a gentlemanly way, not at all like the other men who frequented the club. Not that she had much experience, but she’s had to fight her way out of an embrace enough times to know the difference by now. 

Her hands slipped from around Michael’s neck to fumble with his bow tie, and the carried on down his shirt, button by button. She kissed his neck again, and bit down softly on his ear. 

He pulled back abruptly, falling back hard on the lounger. “I can’t do this.”

Ruth hovered over him, all concern. “What’s wrong? I’m just trying to make you feel better. What can I do?” 

“Just go away,” he said, eyes fixed firmly on the wall. “Just leave me alone. I’ll be fine, I just need a drink.”

Ruth climbed out of his lap sadly, and poured more water from the pitcher on Happy’s desk. “Here,” she offered. “It’s only water though.”

“Thanks.” He didn’t look at her. 

“I won’t leave until I’m sure you’re all right, Mr Rand.” She knelt on the floor, keeping a slight but respectable distance from him. “I’ve tried taking care of you all night. I wouldn’t trust anyone else here to look after you. If affection isn’t the answer that’s fine, but I’m not leaving you to go crawl back into a bottle of bathtub gin.”

He finally turned to look at her, and the intensity in his eyes caught her off guard. “It’s not that I don’t want your affection, Miss, Miss?-“

“Taylor.”

“-Miss Taylor. You really are the kindest and loveliest girl I’ve seen in a long time.” He twirled the glass in his hands nervously. “It’s just, I’ve been drinking all night. I don’t know if I can...” He trailed off but Ruth got the picture. 

“That’s fine. There’s other things we can do. I was simply trying to help clear your mind, Mr Rand.” She looked around the room for an idea, and her eyes landed on the vanity in the corner. “And I think I know how. Can I try something? It’s a little, well, odd, but you won’t have to do anything, and I think it’ll clear your head.” 

He looked at her, sad and pathetic. Young and hopeless. “I trust you, Miss Taylor.”

She patted his hand, and hopped up. Rifling through the vanity, she found a jar of Vaseline and a couple of hand towels just to be safe. Locking the door, she shot Michael a confident smile. “Last chance to back out?” 

He smiled back, a loose, dopey grin. “You’ve done so much for me already, I can’t stop now.” 

“That’s the spirit! Well, the right spirit, for once.” He chuckled at her weak joke as she unlaced his shoes. 

“A foot rub?” He guessed, propping himself up on his elbows to watch her work. 

“Nope.” 

“Pedicure?” 

She laughed, pulling his socks off. “Not quite. Now, the tricky part.” She reached for his pants, and he froze. 

“I said I couldn’t-“

“And I said I could do something else. Do you still trust me?” Her voice was growing more confident, and Michael found it easy to comply. Together with his fumbling hands and her determined ones, they got him out of his slacks and shorts. 

“You should take your jacket and shirt off too, you look funny with them on,” she pointed out. Helping him up, she got him fully undressed, and kissed him on the cheek. “Ready?”

“No, but go on. I’ll catch up.”

She smiled again, helping him lie back down on the lounger, in slightly different position propped up on some pillows. 

“Now, this is something I’ve only heard of, from some of the guys I’ve danced with,” she began. “I don’t know if it’ll work for you, and I’ve never done it myself. I can’t begin to imagine what you think of me, but I’m not usually this kind of girl.”

Michael gave her a fond look. “I think you’re the swellest girl I’ve ever met. And I believe you can do anything.” 

She beamed, and kissed him again. She kissed long and slow, mindful of his sore jaw, but also not wanting to overwhelm him. Her left hand trailed downwards, taking a leisurely path on the outside of his thigh to rest at the base of his ass. Her fingers teased up and down, and she waited for him to back away or tense up. 

Michael shifted a little, but kept kissing back. She pulled away and looked at him curiously. “You’re not uncomfortable?”

“Far from it.”

She reached for the vaseline on the floor and held up the jar. “Still ok?”

He swallowed but nodded. She kissed his forehead. “You’ve got this, Mr Rand. I’ll be with you every step of the way.” She slicked up the fingers on the left hand, as he watched her with apprehensive eyes. “We can stop at any time. Just say the word.”

“What word?”

Ruth paused. “Stop?”

“Logical enough. Alright Nurse Taylor, the patient is ready.”

Another kiss, and she used her right hand to distract him, gently holding his chest, or clutching his shoulder. He was slowly relaxing again. 

Her fingers found their place again, and she slowly began to circle, getting him used to the sensation. Her index finger started a gentle massage, a comforting touch that grew deeper until she finally pushed in. 

He tensed up, and she pulled back from kissing his neck. 

“You’re doing good, Michael. May I call you Michael?” she added as an afterthought. 

“You probably should,” he gritted out. 

“Calm down,” she soothed. “Just focus on my hands, and your sensations. Just relax and ignore everything else.” She moved her other hand from Michael’s hip to his arm, squeezing it in a light, reassuring way. His own hands held tightly down the sides of the lounger, gradually relaxing their grip. 

Her finger kept a slow, methodical pace, reaching deeper and staying longer with each press. She brushed the hair from his forehead and kissed him there. “You’re doing such a good job.”

He let out a raspy laugh. “I’m not doing a thing, Miss Taylor.”

“Call me Ruth. You’re relaxing and calm. Your body is responding well. You just need to empty out your mind as well.” She lined up her middle finger. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

With two fingers, Ruth was able to keep a steadier, more comfortable rhythm. She had one hand on his shoulder to steady him, and watched the rise and fall of his chest intently, looking for any sign that this was too much for him. 

Michael just stared at her with open adoration, watching her competently and thoroughly work his body over. She hit a sensitive spot and he shuddered, completely uninhibited. 

She smiled at him. “That’s it. Don’t bottle that stuff up. Let it all out.” 

“Ruth, I-“

She waited patiently, but he only gestured with his hand. Ruth smiled brightly. “Perfect timing.” 

Slicking up her right hand, she did her best to keep her left hand thrusting as she took hold of Michael’s hardening dick. He gasped as the contact, and she mumbled some more encouragements as she stroked and fucked him. 

Her inexperience worked in her favor, with eagerness substituting for skill, and honestly Michael couldn’t tell the difference, completely oblivious to everything in the world except for Ruth’s hands, delivering him from the depths of his depression. 

Within minutes he came, panting and sweating and calling her name over and over. Ruth stroked him through it, leaning over him with a fond expression. “Well! Feeling any better?”

Michael laughed breathlessly. “I haven’t felt this good in a long time.”

“I’m glad. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He reached for her hand, stopping her. “Wait a moment. Can we lie here, just for a minute?”

She smiled as he moved over to make space for her. “I want to thank you, Miss Taylor, for everything you’ve done for me. I’d love a chance to repay the kindness you’ve shown me.”

“Let’s say dinner?” Ruth suggested. “The club is closed, but I can get the kitchen staff to find something for us?”

“You think of everything,” he said, voice full of wonder. 

“Not quite,” she kissed his cheek. “Just you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I’m so sorry. The scene where she wrestles the bear rug and he looks at her, that’s my only defense for this. Has anyone even seen this movie? Also I hate the title as much as I hate myself


End file.
